


Tune the Piano

by YellowDistress



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24869554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowDistress/pseuds/YellowDistress
Summary: Tony doesn't think the government has any say-so in knowing the identity of the spider-kid in the suit. But when four hours of Peter's memory goes missing, Tony's opinions may not matter much anymore.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 119
Kudos: 149





	1. Silver Page Turner

**Author's Note:**

> I've been absent.  
> This is my first multi fic in a looooong time so please go easy on my heart haha
> 
> Let me know what you think! ❤

_ Avengers Compound _

_ October 30th, 2016 _

_ 1:23 A.M. EST _

It kept telling lies.

Tony never figured out what ‘it’ was, but it was very real, and very there. It had been for what felt like his entire life, from the time his father had hit him the first time, bribed his silence with toys and treats, to the moment in Siberia when the world around him that was somehow familiar and knowledgeable turned into…Not that. When it turned into a realization that maybe he knew nothing about the people around him and maybe he never would again.

And he cared. God, did he care. As much as he pretended not to, it was far too difficult to ignore the stinging in the center of his chest to tell him ‘yes, that hurt’ or ‘yes, I can’t forget about it’.

‘Yes…I was your friend too’.

It was a mantra, but not…comforting. More so a reminder to keep his walls up and his bitterness ever so present so he could not sleep, because sleep meant forgetting for a few moments, then realizing he was never going to be the same. If same existed, he didn’t know what there was to go back to besides the tinge of hope that maybe the rogues could come back and they could be their fucked up family again. That seemed like a long shot, but sometimes it felt possible when Tony let the walls fall far enough to realize he wasn’t quite as angry anymore.

Then he remembered his mother…and he remembered what had happened to her.

Part of him also said ‘fuck Howard’, because truly…Howard had waited until he was a ghost to show any sort of care and affection and that wasn’t fucking _fair_. Not to a four-year-old who was shouted at for talking too loud, when four-year-olds were supposed to talk too loud and be messy and all around gross.

Tony noticed when his thoughts trailed to all of those things and he realized, realized – well realized, the real time where he actually felt like a human being – that he was spiraling again. He poured the whiskey into his coffee and wondered if this would be what gave him a heart attack because mixing caffeine with alcohol seemed counterproductive at best. And yet.

And yet.

No one was there to stop him, so he poured more, then drank the concoction he had grown rather immune to. If for now, it was just to stop the shakes, and the concern that it was past one in the morning and he was still in the lab, glancing around as if there was nothing to do. There was the meeting with Ross in the morning, something he had been dreading for the entirety of the week, but it had to be done unfortunately. He couldn’t keep putting it off, mostly because Pepper would absolutely lose her shit. He had hoped – expected more so in his bratty ways, that after their engagement things would get easier. But they hadn’t really been the same since Ultron, since breaking up, since Siberia, and then getting back together.

Tony had been abandoned in a different way – a way Pepper just could not conceivably fix. And fuck, she fixed everything so Tony suspected this black hole was there to stay.

The search for said black hole – the rogues – had gone nowhere. At least that was what Tony understood. He knew enough, Vision would go on long weekend trips – more like entire weeks, and Tony wasn’t stupid. He tracked him, and currently he was somewhere in Philadelphia. Which was probably where Wanda was and the others probably weren’t far from her. Besides Clint who was sitting tight on his farm and that tiny-big ant guy who was doing something similar with an ankle bracelet.

Tony didn’t tell Ross he had his suspicions. After all…Tony couldn’t even tell if he was angry anymore.

Rage waned; bitterness clung.

Similarly, Tony knew, that Ross knew, that Tony knew where the Rogue Avengers were – and it was sensical if thought about properly.

Part of Tony was broken.

He set down his cup and moved towards the padded punching bag. He hadn’t intended to hit anything, but he did a few times – because he wanted his hands to hurt. More than his left arm usually did, and maybe he punched a little harder with that one on purpose. It didn’t hurt as badly as he may have liked, but he accepted this. He felt woozy from lack of sleep, nauseous too. But in a way he had grown used to it since going to MIT and pulling all-nighters. Tony sent a few more punches, until he was inhaling so quickly he thought he’d surely vomit up the coffee and whiskey.

“Late night training?”

The door slid open and Tony turned just as Rhodey walked through. Rhodey’s internal clock was screwed at the moment from being out of the country for several weeks. At least he had an excuse and Tony’s mouth turned up a bit in a smile, but it felt forced. Sometimes it was habit, because people like Rhodey and Pepper knew things, and they knew his lies. They could see through them – but it didn’t stop Tony from trying to make things seem a bit softer, a bit more natural, a bit less pained.

“Something like that,” Tony moved back from the bag, grabbing his mug once more and taking a sip. The way the air in the room had shifted from loneliness and longing to a sense of business was startling to his body and he needed what was buried in the coffee to get through this realization. Tony placed a hand on his nearby work bench, before turning and pressing his lower back into the edge, relaxing against it.

Tony then shrugged and continued, “More so an attempt to pass the time.”

“Right,” There was nothing in Rhodey’s face that said such an answer was acceptable. He went on, “I thought you were trying to get on a more…average sleeping schedule. You know…staying home more – staying with Pepper and away from the Compound. I could have sworn that was a condition of the engagement.”

Tony sighed, “No one reads the terms and conditions.”

Rhodey blinked, “I do.”

“You also think Iron Patriot rox – or was it War Machine?” Tony set the cup aside and raised an eyebrow. The question sparked a deep inhale from his best friend and Rhodey ran a hand over his head, as if searching for something to say. Tony – for just a moment – allowed his eyes to travel to the prosthetics that were helping his friend walk. The only way he could do so. Some kind of normalcy was lost that day in Germany, Rhodey had become a permanent example of that, not just the images he had of the Winter Soldier’s hand around his mother’s neck. This guilt was walking around – this guilt was alive, and this guilt was nothing like Charles…the dead kid from Sokovia. The dead kid that was Tony’s fault.

“Anyway,” Rhodey looked at if he was grounding the words out, “I just think you’re going back to bad habits is all. This isn’t a good place to be, not now anyway.”

“Why ‘not now’?”

“You know why,” Rhodey was growing impatient, Tony had known him long enough to read when he was nearing the edge of his threshold with Tony’s sarcasm, “The others…Not to mention Ross, and tomorrow is the meeting, you have no idea what he’s going to throw at you.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Well unless you know something I don’t, Rhodes, it’s going to be nothing new besides going over the usuals. Looking for the others, setting up security, amendments to the Accords – the whole shebang.”

And silence. Not the normal kind when Rhodey had decided he had enough of Tony’s antics. The kind that said there was underlying knowledge that wasn’t being shared with the group. Tony glanced, frowning slightly and Rhodey was staring at him intently. Maybe like he wanted to say something but the words were lost to him. Tony placed his teeth against each other, ground them a moment before opening again.

“Unless, you really do know something that I don’t.”

Rhodey looked away and Tony let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. His throat was burning from his drink, his head was already throbbing – he could feel his blood pressure rising by each passing moment because he really didn’t want to deal with anything out of the ordinary. He was too damn tired. Being tormented by one’s thoughts and feelings on a regular basis was something he had never grown used to, no matter how much he liked to pretend he no longer felt anything.

“C’mon Rhodey,” Tony kept his eyes shut and squeezed his nose tighter, “Imma have a coronary.”

“It’s not – well, it isn’t a huge deal,” Rhodey replied, clearing his throat, “I just know how you are, and how you tend to take things like this. Especially stuff dealing with…him.”

“Who, Ross?” Tony opened his eyes.

Rhodey shook his head, “No. Ross wants to get involved with some of your other ‘projects’. One of these projects being – uh well…”

A shrug, then, “The spidey-guy’s-super-ferryboat-fuck-up.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Tony blinked multiple times, the lethargic feeling slowing down his train of thought, and he decided he needed to stop drinking. Tony ran a hand through his hair and looked at the wall, before shoving down the concern that welled, because he had nothing to be worried about. He was Tony Stark, and Ross was – well he was an idiot. Maybe not an idiot, he actually had his moments of intelligence, but there was nothing that could be proved by him. Nothing that could be forced. Tony swallowed…

“Yeah no – the kid turned down his chance to be involved with the Avengers. Therefore he is none of Ross’ business.”

“I’m just concerned,” Rhodey huffed, “I mean, it wasn’t exactly the wisest thing to bring a child into this kind of thing – “

“Woah,” Tony held up his index finger, “I didn’t bring him into anything, he was doing it anyway – I gave him a suit to protect him.”

Rhodey nodded, “Then brought him to Germany.”

“I admit,” Tony looked away and mumbled, “Not my shining moment, but we all know how I get when I wanna win, and I _wanted_ to win. The kid is fine, he’s safe, I keep an eye on him and he is absolutely none of Ross’ business and if Ross has a problem with that he can take his problem and shove it –“

Rhodey replied, “Tones.”

“Right,” Tony corrected, “Sentiment still stands. It’ll be a normal meeting.”

Tony tried to ignore a slight pang of panic. The kind from the black hole and the feeling of not being in control of what was happening to him or to the world around him. It was as if his fingers could not keep hold, and Tony would be lying if he didn’t want to have control over things that just weren’t his to control. Like Ultron, the shield, the suit of armor around the world, but he knew something bad would happen – even if it hadn’t. He liked to think…he knew…and he could do something about everything, including the kid and his choice to run around in a onesie. Tony knew better – he had to – and he had to…control it.

Tony knocked the rest of the drink back and tried to keep from shattering it in his hand.

…

_ Queens, New York _

_ October 30th, 2016 _

_ 7:47 A.M. EST _

_“You never dream anymore.”_

_“It’s hard when you dream about planes crashing and beaches bursting into flames.”_

Peter felt his chest expand first, followed by the sharp sting of what felt like his ribcage cracking open into the morning sunlight. His eyes followed in such an opening, welcomed by the chill of his bedroom window being wide open and the cold October air unable to escape his closed bedroom. He was lying on the floor, just feet from his bed, his chest exposed to the air and he felt his limbs shivering before he had even realized he was actually cold. He swallowed, his throat scratchy as if he had been sick and his brain was fogged over thickly back behind his eyes, making it hard to focus.

_Hi, welcome to Hell._

It felt like the morning after the beach – Toomes and having his ass handed to him before he had finally won. He didn’t try to think, only pushed himself up slowly onto his elbows, looking down at his body. He was correct, his upper body was bare, Spider-Man suit peeled back to his lower body. Peter blinked slowly, and hard, processing that his chest and abdomen looked black and blue, large bruises from what he could only assume were strikes.

He didn’t remember getting hit.

In fact…he didn’t even remember coming home.

Then he saw his hands, his arms – he saw the crusted brown that was there and his heart sank into his stomach. A feeling of realization that – yes – that was blood and it was dried, and he didn’t know…he didn’t feel like he was bleeding, but maybe he had been and he had just healed while being asleep, had stumbled home injured and confused and had been lucky enough to survive the night.

Peter pushed himself the rest of the way up, vision whirling as if everything was rushing to his head. He pressed his palms into his temples and groaned quietly, trying not to vomit all over the floor and processing his thoughts. Blood – dried – bruises, window open. Fucking floor. Peter gulped back and opened his eyes once more. He remembered leaving for patrol around 7:30…Stopping a drunk guy from being run over…Then he had landed on top of the Mega Bank and then…

Not much.

It was the usual route, his usual patrol, but he must not have gotten very far into it. Maybe he had fallen – maybe a line had broken and he had crawled home like a kicked puppy. Maybe he had been concussed in said fall and just couldn’t remember and his head had somehow healed from a massive brain bleed. Part of him doubted all of this, but theorizing was worth the effort when very little was being offered to explain everything from his psyche.

Peter looked at the blood again, and he inhaled.

“Right,” Peter tried to capture his thoughts, looking over and seeing his mask on the floor. Peter reached for it, and slipped it over his head, speaking clearer and pushing past his hoarse voice, “Right uh – Karen? Karen, are you there?”

“Here Peter.”

“H-hey,” Peter could hardly talk, his throat was so sore and scratchy, “Hey uh…You good?”

“I am always good,” Karen replied dutifully, maybe having no idea why Peter’s voice was shaking the way it was, “But you appear to be in distress. You have an elevated heartrate and I’m sensing anxiety in your voice.”

Peter laughed, but it wasn’t genuine, “Yeah well…I think I might have had kind of a rough night. Do you think uh – well, did anything happen last night? Did I fall or something?”

There was a brief moment, and the mask had lit up to show his bedroom. Karen seemed to be scanning, because some numbers flashed across the screen and Peter shut his eyes, as it was beginning to make him want to vomit again. Suddenly the flashing stopped, and Karen’s voice returned to announce, “All footage seems normal from last night, Peter. However, there was a four-hour span in which I seem to have lost data, including video footage.”

“What?” Peter breathed, “Four hours?”

“Yes.”

Peter looked around the room rapidly, before dropping his hands on the ground, “That’s not exactly business as usual, Karen…I…I’m covered in blood, is it mine? Did I get stabbed or shot and just…healed up?”

“Further DNA analysis would be needed to determine that.”

Peter groaned and shut his eyes again, placing his hands on both sides of his head. He then took a few breaths, trying to stop his heart from absolutely slamming out of his chest before he questioned, “Was the data corrupt or something? Did you accidentally delete it?”

“The only person that can remove footage from the baby monitor is Mister Stark himself.”

That didn’t make any sense at all. Mister Stark wouldn’t have any reason for deleting that, at least Peter wouldn’t think so. Besides, he hadn’t seen Mister Stark in weeks – none of it was making sense. Peter coughed, and it felt like his heart skipped a beat as he questioned, “Well, is there footage of me coming home or anything? Something that would indicate my injuries?”

“All data from the four-hour time frame was lost, Peter,” Karen answered, “There is no data indicating you traveled home. Your location appears to have jumped from the Mega Bank to your apartment in Queens in a matter of seconds. However, it shows a four-hour lapse.”

Peter whispered, “Shit.”

He wasn’t sure he could sum it up in any other way. Shit captured most of what he was feeling, and he tried to make his mouth feel less dry but he was struggling as he looked at his hands. He just kept thinking – hell, what had he done? What had happened? It could have been nothing, just an incident, a bad fall, and he had taken care of himself and gotten out of there, just like an Avenger would. And if he was old enough to be an Avenger he was old enough to deal with whatever this was.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock at the door. Peter threw his arms between his legs and closed his knees to hide them, but the door didn’t open. Instead, just Aunt May’s voice called from the other side, “Pete?”

“Y…yeah!” Peter called, voice cracking.

“I’m headed to my shift at the hospital,” Aunt May replied, “I left you some food in the fridge, top shelf.”

Peter nodded even though she couldn’t see him, his heart racing. If she saw the blood – she’d freak out, then he would freak out, and then she would probably call Mister Stark or something else and he would be super embarrassed and –

“Awesome,” Peter shut his eyes and cringed, “Thanks!”

“Of course,” She answered, then continued, “Oh and hey, be good while I’m gone, okay? No wild shenanigans, no fighting bad guys, it’s a Sunday. Maybe go do something fun with Ned…alright?”

And just like that the racing sunk. Ever since Aunt May had found out about Spider-Man it certainly didn’t ease her worry. Not anymore than she already was when she had no idea why he was acting the way he was, why he was sneaking out, that sort of thing. There was a lump in his throat, and he opened his eyes just as they turned glassy. He looked at the ceiling, a silent apology to Uncle Ben for making Aunt May worry so much. For hurting her and lying to her the way he did. He really had thought it was for the best, and he had thought – he had thought he was protecting her. And now he was lying again…

“I will,” Peter was quieter this time, “I’ll be good.”

He could hear her smile but it didn’t ease the pit inside of him, “Great! Love you!”

Before he even uttered the words back, her footsteps were retreating and the front door was slamming shut behind her. Peter used a few moments to gather himself, to push down the ever present grief for the life they could have had. Sometimes the feeling of Uncle Ben, and his presence, and his loss snuck up secretly, even though it had been almost a year since he had died. They were only a few months shy, and just when he thought they were normal – they were happy…he remembered again.

Uncle Ben was dead, and Peter had lied to Aunt May and made her worry and now there was no hiding that he was Spider-Man from them and they were going to always…always know. And always be watching.

Peter pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly and using his bunk bed to stay standing. He then hobbled to his desk and past that to his bedroom door before slipping into the hallway and working his way down to the bathroom while holding his ribcage. It felt more scratchy than achy from the bruises. As if he had a bad cold, and had been coughing for weeks, until the skin inside was raw and abused. He slipped into the too-bright of a bathroom and turned on the shower, eager to get his blood – he told himself it was his – off of his hands.

Peter showered quickly, mostly because he knew there were things that needed to be done at this point. One of those things being texting Ned, and retracing his steps from the night before. Going back to the Mega Bank specifically, since it was the last thing he remembered about the night and getting whatever he could from there. Maybe he would find a torn line, find where he had crash landed, and he could put this to bed and just rest up and not worry. Deal with the fact he had nearly broken himself and then ignore it like it had never happened.

The shower eased some of the stinging in his throat. The humidity helped him cough several times and he supposed he must have cleared out whatever was there because eventually it was completely gone and he felt like his voice could return to normal. The ache in his chest even eased a bit and when Peter exited the shower, and the blood washed down the drain, he felt like nothing had happened. Like he was brand new.

Besides the bruises, and the text to Ned.

**SOS. Meet at park.**

Ned hardly asked questions anymore, unless they were excited ones. Peter threw on his hoodie and jeans and sneakers before rushing from the apartment and trotting down the seven floors of their apartment building, squeezing past everyone on the way down. He specifically avoided the old ladies that always asked how his aunt was doing, only because he didn’t want to talk – he didn’t think he could stop and chat without having a full blown panic attack. Not until he got to Ned and explained what happened.

Or what he didn’t know happened.

He pushed the lobby door open, the crisp October air hitting him and Peter immediately whirled to look up at his window, the sounds framed by honking and children laughing in the distance. He could see his bedroom window, closed now, and there didn’t seem to be anything out of place. As if he had been concussed and struggled to get inside or anything of the sort. No blood on the building, nothing broken, no branches destroyed in the nearby trees. He felt concern comb through, aggressive and powerful. If he had been concussed, he would have thought there would have been something there…Something to indicate it had happened.

But maybe it hadn’t.

Peter jogged down the street, not offering his usual bubbly waves to people and instead only raising his hand for a moment at a time. His eyes were set in front of him, going towards the park where he hoped Ned would be waiting for him. Because Peter didn’t know how long he could stand around not knowing. It was the kind of thing where he didn’t feel himself, because there was something that had existed, that had involved him, a memory that wasn’t his. And the thought of the blood on his hands not being his kept nagging at the back of his head.

Peter crossed the street going towards the open gate that went into a green clearing with a path and several park benches. He and Ned had a particular bench they used to meet at when they were kids before heading to the nearby playground together. When their parents thought they were at each other’s houses because they would have never allowed them to go play alone. To his surprise, sitting there even before he had arrived was Ned, a brown bag with a bagel on the front in his lap. As Peter jogged faster, shock ridden on his face, Ned turned and grinned widely.

“Hey!” Ned called just as Peter was in earshot and he stood from the bench, brown bag in hand.

“Hey,” Peter breathed, trying to catch his breath as he came to a stop. He put his hands on his knees and looked up at Ned, before questioning through inhales, “How did you get here so fast?”

Ned held up the bagel bag and said, “I was out already getting some breakfast with my mom! She dropped me off here and headed home when you texted me.”

Ned seemed cheerful, and Peter felt kind of guilty for asking him to come. Ned continued, voice bright, “So what’s up? We got another weapons dealer? Maybe an international terrorist this time? Aliens?”

Peter stood, finally feeling like he could breathe again as he shook his head back and forth, he replied, trying to ignore how his voice still sounded somewhat shaky and worried, “No…no…none of those things – I uh…”

He paused. He didn’t know how to say it, because it sounded so weird. He chewed on his lower lip and ran both hands through his messy hair that was still slightly damp from his shower. His stomach churned as he glanced at the Halloween decorations in the park, pumpkins and skeletons and God – he was scared.

“Something happened,” Peter whispered.

Ned’s face fell. The excitement instantly turned into concern and it was rare to see Ned so serious. Ned stepped forward and asked, “What?”

“I woke up,” Peter puffed, “I – well I woke up, and I couldn’t remember my patrol. Like…I remember leaving, and I remember helping this drunk guy, and then I landed on Mega Bank but…other than that…”

Ned blinked, then shook his head, “Dude, I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe you like…fell down or something. Can’t you look back at your footage?”

“That’s the weird part,” Peter answered, “Four hours are missing. Karen says it basically jumps from me being on the Mega Bank to me being back home, but there’s a four hour gap in-between. And I…”

He paused, then…

“I had blood on me. Like – a lot. And I have bruises but no cuts or anything that looks like it’s healing…Nothing that would make that much blood, unless I just – I guess cracked open my skull and managed to get home. But there wasn’t any blood on the outside of my window, which I’m thinking means maybe my hands were already dry when I got home.”

Silence. The only sounds were that of the city. The look on Ned’s face did nothing to ease Peter’s anxiety and Peter reached for his hair again, tugging at his scalp and letting out a low groan before he turned his back and began to pace on the sidewalk. Ned held up a hand and tried to say, “Hey, hey don’t freak out – “

“I’m _freaking_ out,” Peter’s voice raised to an unbelievably high pitch, “What if I – what if I killed a cat or something? What if I ate it, oh God…”

“Why would you eat a cat?”

“I don’t know!” Peter replied, voice still high and hands releasing his hair to fly out to his sides in a questioning manner, “A rat, a dog, I mean – Or a freaking _person_. What if the spider bite made me feral and last night was some kind of a full moon –“

“Actually, it was a waning crescent,” Ned corrected.

“Whatever!” Peter replied, “All I know is I woke up covered in blood and I can’t remember how!”

Two women pushing strollers walked by, both raising their eyebrows at his statement. Peter looked away, face burning red as Ned smiled awkwardly and waved at the two of them. They continued on down the path and Ned reached into his brown bag, pulling out a bagel before holding it out. Ned questioned, “Do you want one?”

“No,” Peter hissed, covering his eyes and sitting on the bench, “I wanna throw up.”

Ned nodded, “We can do that too.”

Peter blew out through his nose, looking up at his friend unamused. Ned sighed deeply, putting the bagel away before moving to sit down next to Peter. He looked over and he said slowly, as if testing the waters, “Listen, you know what we should do? We should go to Mega Bank, and you can look around. Maybe you’ll remember something! That’s how they do it in the movies, and if all else fails I can try knocking you in the head again or something.”

“Ned…”

“I’m serious!” Ned insisted, “Haven’t you seen _Gilligan’s Island_?”

Peter chewed the inside of his mouth. Retracing his steps was a good idea though, and Peter pushed himself to his feet, gesturing for Ned to follow. Ned did so, throwing his bag in a nearby bin before trotting after Peter, who was walking out of the park at a fast pace. The sooner he figured this out, the sooner he remembered, the better off they would be. Him particularly, because not remembering…Not knowing, it was making him think he was crazy.

And God, if he had eaten a rat or something…

More importantly, if he had hurt someone, he needed to know. But such a thought was almost too terrible to imagine. He wasn’t sure how this was going to happen – how this had happened and how he had ended up in this situation. He had only just woken up and the disturbed thing that had settled in his chest was nauseating and he felt like – well, in that moment there was never going to be a normal again. Like after being bitten, and thinking…things would never be the same. Watching Uncle Ben be buried, meeting Mister Stark, getting the suit and feeling like he was nothing without it.

There was always a normal to go back to, no matter how different it had become. But this already felt endless.

They walked the entire way there. It was only about a twenty-minute jog, but Peter could hardly breathe. It felt like when he needed his inhaler and he almost wished he had it with him but he didn’t even know where it was now. People were going about like everything was normal, like nothing was different, like Peter’s life wasn’t screwed up from this point forward. He could see the Mega Bank in the distance, tall and outlined in the morning sunshine. He blinked up at it, not seeing anything at first glance. The sidewalk didn’t appear to be caked in his blood, but really there was nothing interesting about the bank at all.

But right across the street, stood the King Apartment Building.

And surrounding that were several flashing police cars.

Both Peter and Ned stopped on the street. Several other people had stopped as well to look at the affluent building that was unusually crowded with police. Peter grabbed Ned’s wrist, stomach sinking and he looked over at him, fear etched into his features. Ned shook his head and replied, “Dude, I’m sure some old rich guy just had a heart attack or something.”

But no…No it felt wrong.

Peter stepped into the street, tugging Ned along with him as they went towards where the yellow tape was and where more people were gathered. There was a hush besides murmuring and Peter stood on his tippy toes, trying to see if he could find anything. He looked up at the tall building, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, as well as when he turned back to look up at the bank across the street. His feet were swaying and Peter bit the inside of his cheek before looking at Ned.

He said, “This feels bad.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Ned repeated, before he turned and tapped someone on the shoulder. Peter’s social anxiety spiked as the woman turned to look at Ned and Ned questioned her curiously, sounding far too casual, “What happened?”

“Some senator is dead,” She replied easily, the way people did when something felt everyday. Disassociated from the death itself and Peter could only feel sweat drenching him as he blinked. She went on, “Carmin I think was his name. We’re thinkin’ maybe an overdose or something, you know the usual for a politician having too much fun.”

Ned nodded, and she turned away beginning to speak to the person beside her once more. It seemed cold-hearted but it was…information. Ned reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and Peter continued to stare at the police. They looked as if they were standing guard and Peter whispered to himself, “This is too much to just be an accident.”

“Here’s the guy.”

Peter looked over. Ned had pulled up Google on his phone and Peter looked at the man’s Wiki picture. Peter stared at the brown eyes in front of him, a man with slicked back hair and a navy blue suit, seated in front of an American flag in a professional photo. Smiling and unknowing, maybe the first day of his new job and –

Peter’s brain switched.

Far away, Ned was reading, “Looks like he was a supporter of the Accords.”

So far away. And Peter felt like he was yanked from his body, slipping further down a pipe and his stomach pushed upward. A lightning strike and the world was giving out from under him as he began to sweat more, hands pulled into fists and he felt his nails beginning to cut into the skin on his palms. He tried to find footing, but it was hardly existent and Peter reached out, grabbing Ned’s arm to stabilize himself and stop his body from falling into the people next to them.

_“Stop! Stop!”_

_Peter wrapped his hand around the man’s throat and squeezed tightly. A strangled cry escaped his lips and his head slammed back into the white wall behind him. His eyes under the mask drifted to the desk, where a letter opener lay, bright in the lamp light and cradled by the night sky in the large penthouse windows._

_Peter grabbed it, held tightly._

_Then drove it into the man’s chest._

“Hey uh, is your friend okay?”

The girl Ned had spoken to before looked confused and Ned laughed nervously, nodded his head. Peter felt Ned grab his shoulders, but he was having trouble catching his own breath, stumbling back off the sidewalk. Ned released him and Peter went sprawling, turning himself sideways a bit so he would fall on his side instead of his back. Quickly he pushed himself back up, stumbling once more, but finally making it to his feet as he hyperventilated and moved away from the crowd, rushing back across the street towards the alley on the left side of the Mega Bank.

He could hear Ned calling behind him, and Peter ducked into the alley, grabbing onto the brick wall and leaning against it. He held a hand over his abdomen and hunched forward before vomiting up whatever was left in his empty stomach. He realized he had skipped both dinner the night before and breakfast, a habit his aunt and Mister Stark had been warning him against. Acid burned up his throat and Ned put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

“Dude, dude are you okay?” Ned whispered, “Do I need to call an ambulance? Oh shit, are you having an asthma attack? You haven’t had one in forever –“

“Ned,” Peter choked out but it sounded more like a sob. Maybe it was. “Ned…Ned…I did something…”

Peter inhaled through his nose, eyes burning and tears pooling, “Oh shit, I did something so bad, dude.”

Ned was shaking his head. Everything was blurry, and Ned replied, “It can’t be that bad, Pete. You’d never do anything awful.”

But he didn’t know. He didn’t know, and he didn’t understand.

Neither did Peter though. Peter didn’t understand any of this.

“But I did,” Peter whispered, finally catching his breath enough to sob.

Ned stood silent and Peter went on…

“I killed him. I killed that guy in the picture.”


	2. Leaves From the Vine: The Tale of Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can ya'll tell I've been watching the last airbender? XD  
> Also, this is an interlude of sorts, but it was so long I made it it's own chapter.  
> We had to set up the emotion for the story my guys.

_ A Month Before _

It was really late when Happy called.

Really fucking late.

To the point that even Tony was kind of confused and offended by the time. Maybe not so much late as it was early, but then again he could have just been sleeping for once, and it seemed like when he was actually sleeping – that was when shit always hit the fan. Specifically, the past several weeks had been relatively exhausting between prepping the tower to sell and dealing with the unruly spider-kid who had pissed Tony off just enough to confiscate the suit. Maybe he realized now why he had never had kids before. Kids turned into teenagers, but then there were these moments, these flickers of wishing…

Of being hurt, and then of looking at the kid and thinking – yeah…this is a better project, something to make the future happier, something to invest in and something to protect the world when he was gone. And it wasn’t meant to become an emotional investment, it just had unfortunately, which was something he had a bad habit of doing. Digging himself into something he wasn’t going to be able to get away from. Now he had the suit, and the kid couldn’t do what he was doing, and it was none of Tony’s business if he was the bad guy.

Until Happy made it his business again.

_“ – the plane Tony, the plane fucking went down. We have the guy, but I don’t know where the hell the kid is…If he’s…”_

It didn’t take a genius to know Happy had become emotionally invested in the kid as well, against his will. And this was Tony’s fault. A lot was Tony’s fault, about the entire thing. Taking the suit, leaving the kid pretty much defenseless. And if he was somewhere dead – dying, and they had no idea, because there was no fucking tracker in that stupid onesie…

Tony kept thinking there were a lot of things he could have done differently, which led to him searching for the kid on his own.

He climbed into his suit and took off. Simplistically, it wasn’t how he had expected to spend that late night, groggy with sleep, but he could think well enough to know where to start. The kid had probably booked it from the crash site, but if he had gone anywhere – it was probably home. Tony doubted, even if he was injured, that he would seek medical help. They knew very little of his abilities, how he could heal, anything of the sort…It was less than likely he would want to expose himself to a doctor.

And May didn’t know, so Tony’s theory?

Locked in his bedroom.

Sometimes, Tony realized he knew people in odd ways. When he started paying attention to them, he realized things, and maybe it was because he spent so much of his life ignoring others. Yet it had become a survival tactic with his father, to notice small changes in his mood and his behavior. The sound of his footsteps could give a lot away about what his state of mind was. As much as Tony might would hyperfocus on Howard’s cruelty and distance, the man taught him something like that. And it led Tony to Peter.

Tony didn’t know when he had started paying attention to the kid. Probably when he had realized Spider-Man was fourteen, jumping around the city in a suit. When he had met him, when he had recruited him to go to Germany and he had seen the kid lying on the pavement and a part of him realized “yeah…this kid is my fucking responsibility and he’s going to end up dead”.

Maybe when he realized he wanted a legacy, and having children of his own just wasn’t in the cards. It was all about legacy, it was all about a future, it was all about building the next big thing, but this thing was a person that Tony had to keep alive long enough for him to grow up. For him to be better.

Tony flew, and he didn’t remember the last time he had gone so fast.

He found his assumptions were probably correct when he saw the kid’s window wide open.

Tony slowed his thrusters, and came to a halt, the quiet hum of his suit keeping him suspended in the air matched by the night sounds of Queens. Cars and people and arguments. Laughter, and then Tony opened the suit, climbing out and into the bedroom window, as not to bring the heavy suit inside and risk it breaking through seven stories of wood flooring. He emerged at the foot of the bunk bed, the floor creaking below him and welcoming him into a dimly lit room. The lamp on the bedside table was on, shining a golden light against the pale blue walls and crawling on the wood. When Tony looked around the bunk bed, he saw a form on the floor, propped under the lamp, back against the wall and beside the table.

Peter.

His shirt was pulled up, exposing his lower stomach, and his face was bloodied and bruised also covered in ash. Sweat caked his hair to his forehead and Tony was met with the sickening thought that he looked like a child soldier from one of those awful war movies. The kind that went to war at fourteen and barely knew what they were fighting for. And Tony…Tony was the country that sent him, particularly in Germany, where he had withheld vital information as to why they were there…And just sent Peter out to fight.

_“So what – what exactly did Cap do…Sir?”_

_Tony looked at Peter where the boy was sitting beside him. Tony ground his teeth, and there was wonder in the brown orbs that were blinking at him, as if he – Tony was something of an idol having crawled from the ground. Tony was used to being looked at in such a way by children, but for some reason this was worse._

_Tony was afraid…He would never admit it, but…The kid might have loved Iron Man but he clearly loved Captain America as well. Which was usually the case – a package deal._

_And what if the kid was like Wanda? Clint? Wilson? What if he decided Cap was right?_

_This was one person he wasn’t willing to let Steve convince._

_“He’s wrong,” Tony replied, “But he thinks he’s right…so that makes him dangerous. Don’t let him talk to you.”_

_Peter looked somewhat surprised by the statement. He blinked several times, taken aback, and Tony leaned forward and down slightly, capturing Peter’s gaze again like trying to make a small child understand something very complex –_

_“If he gets close to you, go for the legs. But I want you to keep your distance.”_

And then Tony sent him to war.

Like a child soldier born and bred for such things, not even realizing the humanity behind Peter’s eyes but seeing him as something he wanted to keep away from Rogers. Like they were fighting over toys or some shit.

The floor creaked again and Peter’s eyes shot upward. They were wide, like in the car that day but instead now they were teary…Teary like taking the suit and leaving him to walk home, and God Tony had been a fucking asshole. He had been like Howard, and here the kid was after risking his life to rescue some trinkets off of his plane that he had clearly not put enough effort into making sure was secure, even after being informed about the illegal weapons dealer. Maybe Peter had been right, maybe Tony really didn’t listen.

Peter had gauze in his hand, there was a large gash on his lower stomach and Tony stepped forward, breaking Peter’s shocked silence, “You look a little worse for wear.”

There was no verbal response. Only a sharp inhale and a deep breath as if to stifle something. Peter bit down on his busted lip and looked away, before questioning, “W…What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re alive,” Tony huffed, actually kind of annoyed at the question. He stepped even further towards the kid before kneeling in front of him on one knee to get a better look. He continued, as Peter covered the wound with his hands as if to hide it, “Happy called me, told me there was a mess on the beach and that our Spidey-Friend was missing.”

Peter swallowed, and asked hoarsely, “Did they get him?”

Tony sighed. Of course the kid would be worried about the bad guy. He rolled his eyes and answered, “Yeah, kid. They got him.”

Peter exhaled slowly. His eyes were still watery, and Tony could see from the tracks in the dirt on his face that he had been crying. Whether it be from the shock of the night’s events or from pain, Tony didn’t know. Tony looked down where Peter was covering the wound with his hands and he reached out, but Peter was quick to swat his hands away, and tried to push himself up further into the wall behind him, which was impossible. Tony tilted his head, a mixture of being annoyed, concerned, and downright guilty. He looked like a child avoiding a shot, but the gash looked deep and –

It was as if Peter could hear his thoughts, because the kid insisted, “I heal fast.”

“Right,” Tony replied, “So does Cap, but we still clean wounds.”

Cap. The name felt like acid on his mouth. ‘We still clean wounds’. There was no ‘we’ anymore. There was no Avengers. There was an empty Compound, echoing. There was Vision, Rhodey, but not even Vision was really on their side, he was on Wanda’s side. And Tony felt abandoned all over again, and he looked at the kid – and the kid…had been distracting him. Had been an outlet. Listening to the voicemails Happy sent him, purposefully looking up the kid’s grades, living in a fantasy land that there was something more there. That he could actually be…

And then Tony thought about the beach, about what Happy had described, and he looked at the kid’s battered face and he felt sick to his goddamn stomach. He was angry all over again, not about the damn ferryboat, but about being alone, and left, and abandoned. And if the kid had died, that outlet would have gone with him. Tony was trying to be better, he was trying to grow the hell up, but he was still selfish in so many ways, and when it felt like someone was going – going – gone, he – flipped the fuck out. After the ferryboat, he had thought he was protecting Peter, but maybe not. He had taken the suit and the kid was bleeding through a singed onesie.

Tony realized there was a bite in his voice, but the words happened anyway…

“Were you trying to die?”

Peter looked surprised, then shameful, and that wasn’t what Tony wanted. Tony was proud, but in this moment when he was looking at the kid’s face he looked too young to be there. To be hurt. Peter shook his head, and whispered, “No sir.”

“What were you thinking?”

The kid just…he looked so confused by the venom in Tony’s voice. Honestly, Tony was confused too. He was confused about where this emotion had come from, he was confused about when he started to even give a shit. His hands started to shake, like they did when things got bad. When he got panicked, and couldn’t breathe, when he thought too much about the wormhole, and there was a reason Pepper had forced him into therapy. But one couldn’t heal if they didn’t want to, and sometimes Tony wanted to but sometimes the fear was just so natural he didn’t know if he would be okay without it…

“I had to stop him,” Peter said, staring into Tony’s eyes.

Tony looked down at the wound, and he clenched his teeth. Peter was still covering it with his hands. He couldn’t find words, but his face was burning, and he reached out and pulled Peter’s hands away from the wound. It was a gash, deep and ugly, but if what Peter said was true and he healed fast – well maybe it would be okay. But they hadn’t run any tests on the kid, he didn’t want Peter to be a lab rat.

Tony grabbed the gauze as well as a bottle of antiseptic. Lucky for Peter, it wasn’t rubbing alcohol. Peter had strewn the contents of a first aid kit all over the floor. Tony had a feeling though any sort of liquid was going to burn and he poured a bit on the gauze before looking up at Peter. He questioned, “Is your aunt home?”

Peter shook his head, “Night shift at the hospital.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t warn him, and placed the gauze on Peter’s wound which caused a hiss to escape him. Peter’s body cringed and his eyes shut, head knocking back against the wall. Tony didn’t know if that was mean or not, he always preferred not to be told. It felt quicker that way, there was less time to be afraid. The burning must have subsided though because Peter’s eyes open and he breathed heavily, saying, “You could have warned me.”

“I’m not the kind to count,” Tony answered, “Plus my bedside manner isn’t the best.”

Tony continued to dab the wound a few more times. Peter stopped squirming eventually, and simply stared at the wall. He was blinking, eyes – odd. In a way Tony wasn’t sure he had ever seen them before. Like he was frightened, but not of anything there. Of something invisible, the way Tony looked at the sky above the tower and remembered. Remembered too much to be healthy. Peter continued to stare at the wall, eyebrows pulled together in fear and worry and his body was trembling.

Tony cleared his throat, pulling out a sticky bandage, “How quickly do you heal?”

“Huh?”

“How quickly?”

“Oh,” Peter looked away from the wall and down at the wound, “I uh…I’ve never actually checked. I just know that Advil and Tylenol don’t work anymore and…usually cuts and bruises are gone in like a day or two.”

Tony nodded, “Advanced metabolism. Sounds just like…anyway, I’m gonna stick this on you. Usually I’d suggest stitches, but I have a feeling they’ll do more harm than good considering your healing, and personally…I don’t want to do them.”

Peter flinched slightly when Tony stuck the bandage on and smoothed it down. Tony grabbed the hem of Peter’s shirt and tugged it upward a bit more, checking for further damage but he only saw darkening bruises. Peter’s eyes were once again trained on the wall, looking distant. Tony paused, blinked at him.

“Why did you go?”

And Peter looked at him again. Tony released the hem of his shirt and placed his elbows on his knees where he was squatting in front of the boy. Peter blinked, not blearily but like he was trying to understand the way Tony’s voice kept changing from bedside manner to frustration and even Tony was getting whiplash from himself. His insides were screaming ‘don’t be Howard’ but God, he was upset. Peter looked afraid, and for some reason…The broken parts of him didn’t offer comfort. They offered anger and frustration. Impatience. Just like Howard, just like the kind of man that blamed others for getting hurt, but Peter was so quick to offer himself up on a silver platter.

Peter whispered, “Go where?”

“There,” Tony continued, voice still unforgiving, “Why did you go to the plane? Why didn’t you call?”

Peter’s jaw set, “Would you have answered?”

And shit that hurt. Tony huffed, and stood to his feet before pacing away. He then turned back around and gestured to Peter’s body, “You could have died. Again, and again, I don’t know how to get this across to you. I don’t want to be the one to call your aunt and tell her you’re dead, that asshole – he had you. He had you, Peter.”

“You’re ignoring me,” Peter replied, his voice sharper this time, “Would you have answered?”

Tony’s teeth were hurting from clenching them so tightly. The kid, the kid, the fucking kid, Tony didn’t know why all of this dug up these unfamiliar emotions. The awful part was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he would answer. He wasn’t sure. He wanted to answer that he would have – but honestly, no. He probably would have ignored the call. And that made him feel like shit, and maybe he deserved to feel like shit.

Didn’t mean he wanted to though.

Tony must have taken too long to answer, because he couldn’t find the words and Peter murmured, sounding sad, “See.”

“See nothing,” Tony huffed.

Silence crawled through. An awkward one, until Peter’s body leaned forward and it appeared he was trying to push himself to his feet. His hand found the bedside table, and part of Tony was pouting, but the inner part of him, a completely separate part, moved forward on instinct to assist. He grabbed Peter’s elbows, and Peter allowed some of his weight to lean against Tony. Peter looked at him, pain in his eyes but Tony knew some of it wasn’t physical. Some of it was what Tony had done, and Tony wanted to look away but he couldn’t.

“I need to shower,” Peter croaked.

“Right after I put the bandage on?”

Peter said nothing in response. It was sarcasm, a joke, but Tony could tell Peter didn’t want to laugh right now, and honestly Tony didn’t think he did either. The kid’s weight moved away from him, towards the door where he pushed it open. Tony hovered, he hovered a lot because he was just expecting Peter to fall backward or something. However, he didn’t and instead he slipped into the hallway and disappeared without another word. Tony wondered if he should follow, insist on just sitting in there with his eyes closed in case the kid collapsed. But he didn’t move, he didn’t think he could and instead he stood awkwardly in the room, looking around.

He heard the shower cut on, and Tony pulled out his phone dialing Happy’s number.

_“Yeah?”_

“Hey,” Tony sighed, “I found the kid.”

_“Oh hell…where?”_

“Where he should be,” Tony answered, “At his apartment. Found him crumbled on his floor, but he just went to shower. He’s gonna survive.”

Happy sighed deeply _, “Thank God. That kid – I swear he’s worse than you. I haven’t had chest pains like this since Killian.”_

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Tony muttered, rolling his head.

_“He saved our asses.”_

Tony tsked, “Yeah and almost died for it. He risked…he risked a shit ton just to saved some of my trinkets.”

_“C’mon,”_ Happy reprimanded, _“There’s no telling what would have happened if that stuff had gotten out there on the streets. People…people would have gotten hurt.”_

And yeah, Tony knew that. But right now he didn’t care about other people, even though if someone died from his stuff he would feel like he did about Charles in Sokovia. However, right now…Right now hearing that kid down the hall washing off the ashes and the soot…He just did not give a shit – he was upset and frustrated, but he was also thankful in the same breath and he was proud. But afraid…

Fuck, he was afraid. Afraid to care.

“Stop using logic,” Tony huffed, “I’m tired.”

_“Me too, boss.”_

It was so sincere. At least Tony wasn’t alone in the exhaustion that Peter offered with his antics. Tony licked his lips and looked at the ceiling. He heard the shower cut off down the hallway, and Tony cleared his throat, “Gotta go, Hap.”

He didn’t wait for a goodbye. He simply hung up and sagged his shoulders. He wished for something to hit, he wished for a drink, he wished for some kind of escape from this feeling of responsibility that he had willingly walked into. The price of a legacy that he wanted so badly. The loneliness that had come with Pepper leaving him, and then he had gotten her back, but sometimes it felt like on shaky ground. She had left once, she could again. And it made him unbelievably nauseous. More panic. More fear at people leaving.

The door pushed open again and Peter appeared. The muck was washed from him, and he was changed into a t-shirt and sweats. He was stiff, limping over to throw his towel into a nearby hamper. His eyes looked dead, and when he turned to face Tony fully, they were still bloodshot from earlier. Then he spoke, surprising Tony slightly…

“You don’t have to pretend to care about me.”

Tony felt like someone had shoved him. He looked at Peter, somewhat offended as he whispered, “What?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Peter looked like he was grounding the words out, as if they tasted like bitter anger, “I know you just needed someone for Germany. I know you just – you just needed help, and maybe you felt bad and you gave me the suit. What I did tonight was the right thing to do, and I don’t expect anything. No money, no nothing. Because this is what I want to do…and you can’t stop me just by taking the suit away.”

And God, the kid looked terrified. As if he had realized something, but not terror against Tony, but terror for whatever had happened. Tony thought about that guy, that sorry piece of shit that had tried to kill the kid. The guy that had been stealing those weapons. Tony tilted his head, and he opened his mouth, but Peter started to speak again, voice cracking…

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter’s tone was breaking, and his eyes were brighter red, “With or without the suit. I did a good thing tonight.”

A pause, then…

“And I’m not _sorry_.”

Tony’s stomach plummeted. The kid was crying, but it was far worse than the day he took the suit. Far, far worse and Tony didn’t know what to do with the emotions. He barely knew what to do when he himself cried, when Pepper cried, when people he had known for years cried. And this was a kid, a kid that Tony had – had spoken to roughly, the way Howard would speak to a kid. Peter’s shoulders were shaking, and he had clearly been through something awful…

Tony had ignored that.

Peter pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Finally, he moved forward. He reached out, and he placed a hand on top of Peter’s damp head. It had been bad, not that Tony thought it had been good. But it had been something worse. Tony questioned, low and leaning forward trying to get Peter to uncover his eyes, “Kid, what else happened?”

Peter uncovered his eyes and he was biting down hard on his lip to keep the emotions at bay. Peter whispered softly, so much so Tony almost couldn’t hear him…

“I thought I was going to die.”

Fifteen was too young to think that.

Tony nodded mutely, and Peter’s shoulders trembled. The anger from earlier slipped back to reveal something else. Something he had never learned from Howard. He continued to nod, then slipped an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The kid didn’t push him away, and instead hugged him fiercely. Tony felt relief, because maybe this had been the right thing to do, despite how uncomfortable he felt. Kids cried…and Peter had been afraid.

Hands gripped the back of his shirt.

No one said anything.

Tony, in all of his sarcastic glory could not find words to soften whatever Peter had gone through. He didn’t know how to tell a kid that it was going to be okay when he truly hadn’t believed it himself when he thought about the kid’s life being in peril. Peter didn’t elaborate on what he had experienced, but after a few moments he pulled away as if his legs could no longer hold him up. As if the world had crashed and Peter sat down on his bed. Tony watched him get comfortable and still no one said anything, not until Tony himself switched the golden hue of the lamp off and they were enveloped in darkness.

Finally, Tony spoke from where he stood beside the bed…

“You’re right, kid. You did do a good thing tonight.”

…

Tony sat there a long time.

He could see Peter’s face sleeping, once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Peter’s face had gone lax, and he didn’t look like he had even been crying. It was like the bruises and cuts were fading before his eyes, or maybe they were just harder to see in the dark room. His suit was still hovering out the window, Tony could hear it. He could hear Peter inhaling and exhaling and that was enough to keep him okay. To convince him this was…okay.

Legacy had not frightened him for a long time, but here it did. It was like staring at an infant child and not knowing how they were going to turn out. Peter was good, but the question was whether or not he was going to survive to adulthood, whether or not Tony was right for planning all of these things for a kid he barely knew. But for some reason it felt like Peter was someone he had known for so long.

Soon, Tony stood from where he had seated himself at Peter’s desk. He strode across the room and tugged the blanket just a bit closer to the kid’s chest before placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing before feeling his forehead. Peter must have been exhausted because his body didn’t budge in the slightest at the touch before Tony released and went to the window, climbing out to the waiting suit.

He flew home in silence.

When he arrived, and he landed on the balcony of his and Pepper’s New York penthouse, he took careful measures to be sure he entered, showered, and changed quietly enough not to wake the woman in his bed. However, when he laid down, he felt her body roll over and turn towards him.

“Is he okay?” She spoke groggily.

“Yeah.”

There was a pause, then, “Are you okay?”

Tony sighed…then shook his head staring at the ceiling where he had sunk into his pillow.

When he said nothing, she reached over and wrapped her arms around him.


	3. Zugzwang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zug·zwang  
> /ˈzəɡˌzwaNG,ˈtso͞oɡˌtsvaNG/  
> noun  
> "a situation in which the obligation to make a move in one's turn is a serious, often decisive, disadvantage."

_Avengers Compound_

_October 30th, 2016_

_9:25 A.M. EST_

Tony found he missed Banner most when he was in the main lab of the Compound.

There was this sinking feeling, images of when they had worked in the Tower. Even memories of building Ultron, programming, and just all around goofing off. There was a startling difference between Banner and the others. Banner had missed everything – had disappeared off the face of the earth and they had no fucking clue where he was. They searched, but they figured – well he just couldn’t forgive himself after what happened maybe. Maybe he had thought it was better for everyone if he just…went away.

A part of Tony wanted to respect what that wish was.

That day was no different from the others, but the thoughts about Banner were fleeting at best. Mostly because he was already late for his meeting with Ross that was only just downstairs in one of the conference rooms. A part of him just could not give Ross the satisfaction of Tony showing up on time. He was going to take as long as he wanted – and Ross would wait. For nothing more than just to annoy him and give Tony some sense of control. Tony was better at reading himself now days, he knew why he would do the things he would do. Even so, the more broken and toxic parts, he could not seem to stop.

Tony pressed coffee to his lips, without the whiskey this time. He was pretty sure he had been awake the entire night. Nausea crept in, the kind that came with too little rest, too little food, and too much coffee. Moments ticked by, with just the attempt to waste time and wait…wait and wait, until finally the door to the lab slid open.

He turned. Part of him wished for it to be someone from the team, someone he missed, all of them and he would not admit it through the bitterness in his chest. But Pepper was there, and she was a close second. However, the look on her face looked less than amused and Tony knew better. She wasn’t happy that he was stalling and she probably knew the reasons for the stalling just as well as he did.

Her heels clicked against the floor, until she stopped a bit further from him.

“Tony,” She sighed, “Ross is waiting for you…Has been for about twenty-minutes now. Rhodey is about to flip out.”

Tony clicked his tongue and pushed his coffee away. He turned slightly on his stool and he tilted his head towards the woman, the woman he had grown to love and had caved into the soft spots of his outward exterior where so few had managed to do so. Tony questioned, “Why do you do this to yourself? I know running the business has to be bad enough, you don’t have to deal with my stuff as well.”

“Oh yes I do,” Pepper groaned, pushing her hair behind her ear before crossing her arms in a disapproving manner, “You seem to forget that you are constantly on a ledge with Ross. If we want him to cooperate for the sake of the others…you should show up on time.”

Tony scoffed, and stood, shrugging, “What sake of the others?”

“Don’t play coy,” Pepper followed him as he walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on in the corner of the lab. Tony splashed cold water on his face and she continued, “I know you aren’t fuming anymore, and I know you want them back…Even if it feels hard to offer forgiveness right now, there were a lot of things that could have been handled better. If Ross is offering a deal, you need to take it.”

Tony dried his face with a paper towel before turning and leaning against the counter and sink. He replied, “Pepper, even if he offers something Rogers isn’t going to take it. And Rhodey informed me this isn’t a normal meeting anyway…He’s going to bring up something else…I hope he doesn’t because I told Rhodey it wouldn’t happen and I hate when Rhodey is right.”

Pepper’s brows furrowed, “What else if he going to bring up?”

He stared at her, and stuck his tongue into his cheek, “Seems our Spidey-Friend has caught his attention. Unconfirmed but it seems to be what Rhodey thinks.”

A pause, then, “And I have a bad feeling.”

Pepper looked offended then, “Well you have to tell him it’s none of his business.”

Tony raised an eyebrow then pushed himself from the counter and sink, “I thought you wanted me to cooperate.”

“Not with this,” She shook her head, “Peter is a child, and we promised his aunt we would keep him safe. And safe doesn’t involve the government knowing his identity and him ending up on those Accords. They’ll use him for God knows what…try to send him places to fight their battles.”

And Tony…fuck he hadn’t even thought about that. It wasn’t just the identity thing, it was the fact that if Peter signed the Accords he could be dispatched somewhere. Maybe not even with Tony if they saw it fit, whether or not Peter was a child, the government didn’t actually care. Heroes were expendable, there would be more people born with abilities that wanted glory. Tony pressed his lips together and looked at his fiancée. Her investment in the boy was different, she had actually befriended May. Pepper worked as a sort of shield, because ever since May had found out, the woman had been somewhat frustrated at not having been informed. Pepper had a way of softening blows, and sometimes May and Pepper found ways to gang up on him, which was kind of unfair.

Tony forgot sometimes he wasn’t the only one trying to keep Peter alive.

No matter how lonely it felt sometimes.

Tony didn’t know how much time ticked by as he let the new found worry settle in. He had been drinking when Rhodey had come, hadn’t given too much away in his book of worry. But now thinking about it, sober thoughts bombarded him and he realized that yeah, he was kind of afraid of what could happen to the kid and what Ross could do with him. So he moved around his fiancée to the door, and it slid open to let him out.

Tony made his way downstairs to the meeting room. He put his hands in his pockets, and they were sweaty with concern, but he needed to find his nonchalance quickly. It was his defense against Ross, and when he came into view of the conference room, he saw Rhodey through the glass. Ross’ back was turned, standing at the end of the long table, and Rhodey was in front of him. When the two made eye contact, Rhodey looked less than amused about Tony being late, but Tony only shrugged his shoulders as if it couldn’t have been helped, when really he was spending all of that time procrastinating.

Tony pushed the door open, and the moment he entered the room he felt the weight around them. Ross whirled to face him, an immediate frustration settling into his grey and wrinkled features. Arms crossed over his chest and Tony strolled in, hands still in his pockets.

“Thaddeus,” Tony nodded his head, then looked at Rhodey and continued, “War Machine Rox.”

Ross’ back was turned to Rhodey and so his friend didn’t hesitate to shoot Tony a middle finger. Ross spoke in return, “I was starting to think you were going to be a no-show.”

“I always have to be fashionably late,” Tony pulled one of the rolling chairs out from under the table and he couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of flashbacks slamming into him. Flashbacks of when the Avengers had all sat in that room, looking over the Accords together as a team. When things really started to go bad. Tony continued, plopping down and resting his arms on the rests, “Keeps things fun.”

Ross looked done with him already, but since their contact in the past several months, he had nearly grown immune to Tony’s nonsense. He hardly reacted verbally anymore, mostly in eyerolls and complete silence. Rhodey gave Tony a warning stare, the only one a soldier could give when he actually had respect in his heart for such as that. Tony didn’t care anymore, and he was already on guard.

Ross pulled out a chair and sat down as well. Rhodey followed in suit and Ross grabbed a nearby binder before sighing, “You know I don’t have all day, Stark. This isn’t my only obligation. Babysitting all of you isn’t what I want to spend the day doing.”

“I didn’t know this was babysitting,” Tony responded, “Could have sworn we were just talking about some updates with the Accords.”

Ross stared. Again, the patience looked thin, but not like Ross was about to explode. Just that he had grown tired of holding their hands and explaining, and constantly making amendments to a document he thought was perfect in the first place. Ross was tired of dealing with them, Tony could see that much. Deals had been made to free Barton and the Ant-Guy. They had served them greatly after all. But the others…

“More amendments were made,” Ross slid the binder over to him and Tony plopped a hand on top of it to stop it. He cracked open the thickly bound paper and Ross went on, “Mostly to section C. It gives a bit more autonomy on the parts of the Avengers, but at the most I think that is all they’re willing to offer at this time.”

Tony’s eyes scanned it, “They?”

“Everyone,” Ross replied, looking annoyed, “Like I said, we’re not the only country involved with this. This is one of the greatest…declarations of peace and agreement known to date. You should be thankful they were willing to budge as much as they did.”

Tony scoffed, “Right, remind me to send a fruit basket.”

“Tony,” Rhodey hissed, warningly, before clearing his throat and looking at Ross, “Sir, I think what he’s trying to say is…The fact that it’s agreed on across the board doesn’t really matter because quite frankly…They’re not the ones that will have to abide by it. And we’re trying to come up with something that can…”

Rhodey looked at Tony and Tony looked back. Tony didn’t need anyone, but maybe Rhodey thought he did…Tony would never admit he did though. That there was any sort of longing for what had been lost. That he regretted anything, because he still felt like the Accords had been right it was just – they hadn’t gone about it correctly. And now the hurt hardly had to do with the Accords. It was…it was that damned video, it was Bucky Barnes. It was the lies but for the sake of the world and for the sake of the Avengers, Tony just thought…he could pretend –

“We’re trying to come up with something that will bring them back,” Rhodey finished. “Bring back the Avengers.”

Ross clicked his tongue, “I know that. And I know that the Avengers serve this country more as a team, more than underwater in the Raft. But they’ve committed treasonous crimes against the United States of America and we just aren’t willing to continue bending for them to feel…comfy.”

Then, Ross was staring Tony dead in the face, “With no guidance, they are simply vigilantes.”

Tony sat forward, and from the way Rhodey’s head was shaking back and forth, warning him not to argue, he knew something was about to leave his mouth that he would maybe regret later. But Tony was running on no sleep, and his patience was zero. He folded his hands and he asked, “Guidance?”

Ross stared blankly and Tony went on, “You mean guidance from the people that offer zero accountability for their own actions? Tell me Ross, how many bombs have your people dropped on civilized locations in the middle east in the past two months? How many just since the Accords came into play, not to mention before?”

“I don’t see how that corresponds,” Ross replied.

“You don’t?” Tony questioned, “Or you’re pretending you don’t? Because I think it’s the second. The correlation is pretty clear, the only difference is, you’ve got a stamp of approval for a legal collateral shit show, while some of our actions didn’t have time to run through a board for approval. What were we supposed to do? Send in a request while Ultron was getting ready to take all of us out and then sit on our asses while he decimated the entire world?”

And then it hit him.

Precisely what Steve had argued.

The guilt was still there, the need for accountability was still there. Charles was still dead and all of those other people who didn’t deserve it. But it was hypocritical to call Steve and the others vigilantes, even if Tony still saw Rogers as a lying asshole. A lying asshole who left him to clean up this fucking governmental atrocity and fight for amendments with the hope that maybe the Avengers could be saved without any arrests being made. But it was sound in that way and Tony swallowed…Swallowed and swallowed down his pride before clenching his fists.

“I’m not stupid, Ross,” Tony went on, “I was on the other side of that business at one time too. We aren’t the only ones justifying what we do, justifying who we decide to attack and kill. But don’t try to deem people vigilantes when you know for a fact there is no world order for the dropping of bombs on cities full of women and children.”

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose and Ross only stared. Tony wasn’t…wasn’t listening to any of that bullshit. Not then. It wasn’t the day for it, and Ross tilted his head back and leaned against the chair, folding his hands together and placing his ankle on his knee while crossing his legs. Ross questioned suddenly, catching Tony slightly off guard…

“And is that why you supplied the Spider-Man with a suit?”

Tony felt his body twitch.

“What?” Tony questioned.

“We know what the Spider-Man is wearing is Stark technology,” Ross replied, “We also know after that ferry boat nearly sinking in Staten Island, that you have some sort of relationship with whoever is under the mask. Not to mention the fact that he was also present in Germany when you attempted…and failed, might I add, at arresting the rogues.”

Tony gritted his teeth. He could already feel his hands shaking, but he didn’t know if it was anxiety or worry. Fear even…deep terror. He didn’t want Ross asking anything about the kid. The kid wasn’t…

“Spider-Man has nothing to do with this,” Tony replied, “We offered him a position on the Avengers, but he declined it.”

Ross raised his eyebrows, “And yet you still allow him to use your technology.”

“How is that any of your business?” Tony leaned forward and he saw Rhodey move in the slightest, as if to step between them if needed. Tony went on, “I think I’m allowed to rent out my tech to whoever I want. I created it. Unless you want to pull a Senator Stern and argue with me on that topic as well.”

Ross shook his head, “No, but concerning senators, one was murdered. Senator Carmin of New York, one of the greatest backers of the Accords in Congress. At first, we theorized maybe one of the rogues had something to do with it, a sort of retribution of their ‘treatment’. However, we have no evidence that they were in New York City at the time. But you know who was, and just so happens to be based in Queens when Carmin was found dead in his penthouse?”

“That’s…pretty circumstantial, sir,” Rhodey piped in before Tony could absolutely explode.

Ross nodded as if he agreed, “Very much so, Colonel Rhodes. But just something we’re trying to decide if we would like to run with or not. Of course, if we could get in contact with the Spider-Man and maybe ask him a few questions, as well as get his signature on the Accords we may be able to remove him as a suspect.”

“Oh bullshit,” Tony snapped, before standing to his feet, “You want to pin some random senator’s murder on Spider-Man because you’ve got no other information? Or is it just a scapegoat so you can get him to sign the Accords and then you can get your hands on who he really is?”

“Spider-Man was known to have had contact with the rogues,” Ross said and Tony thought his blood was going to boil right out of his veins, “As well as you…And everyone else in Germany. How are we to know the rogues haven’t decided they would pick off those in government who oppose them?”

A pause…then…

“That’s the thing about vigilantes, Stark. You don’t know them. But if we could meet Spider-Man and get his agreement on this, we wouldn’t have to concern ourselves so much. Even better if we could get the rogues to agree to the amendments.”

Bullshit.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Tony’s hands were still shaking from where he was standing, looking down at Ross who looked unconcerned. Or maybe like he had done exactly what he had planned to come there to do, and Tony couldn’t help but feel…fucked over and lied to and tricked. Rhodey had warned him, but Tony had planned to avoid the topic and somehow Ross had entered it without any issues. Just because Tony had brought up a senator and…maybe that was the entire point of the meeting.

Maybe Ross had been planning to back him into a corner about Peter all along.

Slowly, Ross stood also. Tony couldn’t find words as Ross patted his shoulder and said, “In any case, feel free to read over the amendments and help them find their way to the rogues. I think we both know you have your ways of doing that.”

And yeah, Ross was an asshole, but not a stupid asshole.

He moved around Tony and Tony heard the door shut behind him as he left the room. Without a moment of hesitation, Tony kicked the rolling chair, sending it sprawling on the floor. Rhodey groaned from where he was sitting in irritation and when Tony looked over at him, he asked hotly, “What the fuck was that?”

“That was what I warned you about last night, but noooo it was gonna be a ‘normal meeting’, right?”

“Oh shut up,” Tony growled, moving away and running his hands through his hair, “He had the nerve to…he’s in here for five seconds and he starts blaming a whole murder on the kid? That’s really classy.”

Rhodey scoffed, “You’re one to talk about class.”

“I’m way classier than that dick-head,” Tony huffed, facing the glass windows. He lowered his hands and gripped his left wrist when the usual pain shot through it. The anxiety made it worse and Tony chewed on the inside of his mouth, trying to put everything together. Tony went on, muttering, “A senator murdered in Queens…What kind of a senator stays in Queens and not Manhattan?”

Rhodey said nothing in return. Tony’s head was churning out thoughts, and he tried to connect pieces, but really he didn’t know if there was much to connect. He struggled with the idea itself quite a bit and he swallowed before pulling out his phone and calling out, “Hey Fri?”

“Yes boss.”

“Lemme see Parker’s baby monitor footage from last night.”

Rhodey muttered in confusion, “Baby monitor…?”

Tony ignored him, and the baby monitor screen appeared on his phone. Tony questioned, “Was his patrol as usual? No senators being murdered or anything?”

Tony didn’t even know why he was letting Ross get to him. Why he was letting himself run with an idea Ross had planted there, but it didn’t hurt to check anyway. It had been a few days since he had heard from Peter last. Or since Peter had even made a call to Happy explaining how his patrols of Queens were going. Maybe they were still on the fence after the whole Toomes thing and turning down the Avengers position.

Friday’s voice returned, “Nothing out of the ordinary, Boss, but…”

A pause.

“I don’t like buts,” Tony replied sharply, “But what?”

Tony looked at Rhodey. His back had straightened a bit as if he too was curious as to what the AI had to say. Friday’s voice returned and she explained…

“There seems to be a four-hour time span missing from Peter Parker’s data.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed, “Four hours?”

“Yes sir,” She replied.

“What…?” Tony murmured. That…didn’t make a lot of sense. Mostly because Tony was supposed to be the only one that could delete data intentionally, to prevent the kid from doing what he had done that one time…

Tony groaned loudly, “What the…did he get that Ted or Ned or whatever his name is, kid to delete footage or something?”

“I do not know,” Friday replied dutifully, “It could be a possibility.”

Tony muttered under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket. Rhodey was staring, and his best friend spoke slowly, “Do you think…”

“He murdered a senator?” Tony asked, “No, the kid probably couldn’t kill a fly. But did something stupid and deleted the footage? That sounds much more like Parker.”

…

_Queens, New York_

_October 30th, 2016_

_10:34 A.M. EST_

The bathroom was silent, besides the sound of Ned’s laptop.

Ned was sitting on the closed toilet seat with his laptop on his legs, open to a live news feed that was covering Senator Carmin’s murder. Peter was in front of the mirror, studying his healing bruises with his shirt pulled up slightly, while also taking in the sight of his bruised knuckles on his right hand. His stomach felt uneasy, as he thought about the memories that had been…almost forced into his mind by the image of Senator Carmin and –

God…he didn’t know, had he hit him? Had he fought?

The letter opener and everything, it felt…

“Peter,” Ned said and Peter whipped his focus in his best friend’s direction. Ned continued softly, “Don’t freak out. They haven’t even announced the cause of death yet, this could be…a complete misunderstanding.”

Peter swallowed thickly, and shook his head, “And if it’s not?”

There was an inhale, then, “We always said we would help each other hide a body.”

“This isn’t like that,” Peter argued.

Ned’s voice raised a few octaves, “It totally could be! I could be your alibi, I’ll just say you were at my house last night.”

Peter looked at Ned unamused, tilting his head sideways and crossing his arms almost like a disappointed father. Peter questioned sharply, in a harsh whisper as if someone could hear them, “And what do you think your mom, who checks on you every night before bed at least six times, is going to say to that?”

Ned grimaced…then spoke hesitantly…

“Uhhh…I could say you were under the bed.”

Peter let out a huff of air, and looked away towards the tile wall. He could hear the news caster talking about the case. They didn’t have much information yet about what was going on at the penthouse, or whether or not it was actually being treated as a homicide. All they had to go off of were those people in front of the building spreading rumors and the memory that Peter wasn’t sure was reliable or not. Maybe just a figment of his imagination that he had put together in his panic.

Still.

Peter moved to the edge of the bathtub before sitting down. He looked at Ned and ran his hands through his hair, his bruised knuckles aching in the slightest. He blinked a few times and he whispered, “God…And tomorrow is Halloween, which is like one of the busiest nights of the year. I was gonna patrol all evening, just in case – but I don’t…What if I hurt someone else?”

“Dude,” Ned was quiet, “You don’t even know if you hurt this guy. I’ve known you since we were kids, you literally saved Toomes after he tried to kill you. Why would you attack this random senator?”

Peter answered honestly, words tumbling out at a million miles per hour, “I don’t know. I didn’t even know this guy until today, let alone where he lived. I mean his bio says he was a big supporter of the Accords, but I’ve never heard of him before in my life.”

Before Ned could say anything in return, there was a knock at the door…The front door. Peter’s head whipped in Ned’s direction, and Ned immediately pressed the mute button on his laptop. Peter jumped to his feet without hesitation, as if adrenaline pushed him up and his spider senses were triggered, though he wasn’t sure if they were actually in danger. Peter’s mind whirled…what if it was the police? What if someone had found out? What if they had footage or something of him killing Senator Carmin?

Peter pushed down the thoughts, then…

“Stay here,” Peter ordered Ned.

Ned opened his mouth to argue, but Peter rushed from the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. When he heard it click, he crept down the hallway, flinching every time a floorboard squeaked. If it were the authorities, they would surely come in anyway, but he hoped that if it was, he could ignore them long enough for them to go away. Maybe it was just a delivery person – maybe a fucking milk man from the 1940s. In any case, Peter felt physically ill…Because he didn’t think they would send Spider-Man to jail. They’d probably send him to that place where they sent most mutants, in the middle of the ocean…Where the rogues had gone before – well before –

Peter approached the door, and leaned forward to look through the peep hole. However when he looked through, he didn’t see men in suits and sunglasses or police officers with handcuffs. But maybe what he saw was worse for the moment they were in…

Tony Stark.

Peter’s stomach and the bile plummeted and Peter pulled away from the peep hole, eyes wide and horrified. Peter looked back, towards the empty hallway as if he thought he could maybe sprint back, grab Ned, and drag them both out the window. His heart hammered, but he tried to calm it, knowing there was probably nothing to fear. At least he hoped. Mister Stark didn’t know anything, but then again it was pretty fucking convenient he happened to show up at their tiny apartment the morning after a senator was murdered – when Peter was his own prime suspect in said murder.

He swallowed past the horror and fear, reaching out with sweaty palms to unlock the door. He then turned the handle and opened it…

The moment their brown eyes met, the world felt off.

Maybe it was because there was an instant realization that Peter was about to have to lie his ass off. Not lie, that wasn’t…Well, he didn’t even know why Tony was there. It was just a complete coincidence that he was there, and that he very rarely showed up to their apartment. Usually if there was intern stuff, Peter went to him. Happy would call before and tell him that he was being picked up – but Peter kept telling himself it was a coincidence. Not to be nervous, to act natural. But instead, his words came out stuttered and his voice went higher…

“H-Hey Mister Stark!”

There was too much enthusiasm that cradled desperation and anxiety. Tony looked taken aback by the tone and the sudden greeting. It was actually kind of loud. Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, and forced a lopsided smile, more like a child hiding the fact he had stolen from a cookie jar than someone who had more than likely murdered a senator. Peter’s stomach twisted once more at the thought of that memory, of it being real, of him being a murderer –

“Hey kid,” Tony responded slowly, raising an eyebrow, “Your voice okay?”

Peter nodded quickly, maybe too much again, “Oh yeah…totally fine.”

“Right,” Tony said, then gestured towards Peter, “You gonna…let me in?”

Peter startled and then stepped aside suddenly. He tried to keep his words steady, but of course he couldn’t. Sometimes he felt like such an idiot as he spoke through a shaky voice, “Ye…yeah come on in.”

Tony entered. Peter smacked his forehead when Tony’s back was turned before shutting the door. His hands were shaking and he held onto the knob on the closed door for a few moments to gather himself and take a few deep breaths. When he turned back around, Tony was moving about, hands and his pockets and looking around. He pointed at the walls and asked, “You guys do some painting?”

“Yeah,” Peter was wringing his hands together as he quickly followed, “Well, the landlord did because there was some water damage – but uh…Not that I’m bothered by you being here sir, it’s great, really –“

Tony looked at him blankly, “Spit it out, Parker.”

Peter’s tongue couldn’t catch up, “R-right, uh well…What _are_ you doing here?”

A moment ticked by and Tony shrugged. He removed his hands from his pockets before leaning back against the couch behind him. He then crossed his arms over his chest and Peter’s mind whirled. He felt like a kid in trouble, and this was some kind of scolding, but he could only think that if Tony knew what he had done, or what he thought he may have done, Tony would be a lot more…askew. Instead he just seemed like he was going to be giving a slap on the wrist or something of the sort and Peter was…immensely confused.

“What have you been up to?”

“Me…?” Peter breathed, blinking, “I uh…Well school, and Decathlon. MJ is the captain now and she’s pretty strict so I have to – you know be on time. And uh…I’ve been doing my usual patrols every night. And –“

Tony cut him off, “Anything weird?”

“Anything…” Peter’s voice faded, then, “No, nothing weird.”

His voice cracked again and he resisted the urge to punch himself in the throat. Tony hummed and Peter knew – he just knew he was going to say something, that he was going to interrogate him. Tony’s eyes glanced at Peter’s knuckles, the bruises spread across his right hand and Tony gestured towards it before asking, “What happened there?”

Peter instantly drew the hand close to himself, and slid his thumb over the damage before answering, “I don’t remember exactly…I might have punched a guy or two. It happens sometimes, especially when they’ve got, you know a hard skull.”

He laughed awkwardly, but Tony didn’t. Instead he just pursed his lips before pushing himself to stop leaning against the back of the couch and to stand fully. Peter chewed on the inside of his mouth, waiting for the screaming to start, waiting for the suit to be taken away, waiting for the ferry boat thing to repeat itself. However…it didn’t come like that.

“Imma just cut to the chase,” Tony’s tone was solid, “Four hours are missing from the baby monitor last night. And I know you’ve got that friend who knows a thing or two about removing trackers and stuff like that, so I’m wondering…Did something happen that you felt the need to delete?”

Peter’s mouth opened. No words came out, besides the slight cracking from the back of his throat. Tony raised an eyebrow again, questioning this stupidity and Peter closed his mouth, looked away and then back again. Finally though, he managed to shake his head, “No…No.”

“Kid…”

“No seriously,” Peter breathed, and maybe…maybe this was a good thing. Because Peter really didn’t know what happened on the baby monitor and maybe – well if Tony could fix it, it could prove that Peter didn’t actually hurt anyone. That maybe that memory was just a part of some kind of panic attack and it wasn’t real, “Totally serious, I was…actually wondering the same thing because Karen told me four hours were gone and she didn’t know what had happened. She said you were the only one that could remove them.”

Tony sighed, “And why would I do that?”

“Dunno,” Peter shrugged, “But uh…it must be a glitch or something, right? You can ask Karen, she’ll vouch for me that Ned and I have done no experimenting on her.”

Peter watched silently as Tony’s face changed. The interrogation look…it switched to something different. The kind of look Aunt May would get when Peter would tell white lies about the dishes, the look that was so difficult to deceive. It didn’t intimidate so much as it dug and Peter’s head moved back in the slightest when Tony leaned forward, becoming eye level. Those eyes bore into him, and Peter gulped, blinking rapidly at the man.

“Are you lying?”

Peter hesitated…but then…shook his head.

“No sir.”

“Promise?” Tony said it quietly, and it sounded like he was talking to a kid, but then Peter remembered he was fifteen and Tony really did see him as a kid and not as an equal which made his heart clench. But still, Peter replied…

“I promise.”

Tony stood back to full height and his face looked satisfied with the promise. He then looked away and clicked his teeth before holding out his hand and ordering, “Well then, give me the mask. If it’s glitching out I need to fix it, I’ll work on it when I get some free time.”

The nonchalance in his voice soothed the fear Peter had felt, and he nodded vehemently, willing to do anything to stop Tony from asking questions. Peter rushed from the room, down the hallway and into his bedroom. He then grabbed the mask and came back before handing it over to the waiting hand that was still open. Tony flipped it inside out, looking at it a bit before he sighed, “Alright…”

Peter jumped in surprise when Tony began walking to the front door. It had been…such a brief visit and Peter called behind him, “Wait!”

Tony turned, hand on the doorknob after shoving the mask into his coat pocket. Peter’s brows furrowed and he asked, “That’s…that’s all you came for?”

“To make sure you and your little friend weren’t running amuck, yes,” Tony answered, then, “And to make sure you were still alive.”

Peter didn’t get the chance to say anything else. The door opened, and closed and Peter was left alone in the main room of the apartment. After a few fleeting moments, processing what just happened, Peter turned on his heels and rushed down the hall and back into the bathroom. Ned was sitting there, the laptop still on his legs and Peter didn’t notice at first that it was opened and that Ned had a blanched look on his face. Instead Peter immediately began talking…

“Oh God, Ned,” Peter spoke quietly yet rushed, the words coming out like vomit, “That was Mister Stark, and he was asking all these questions about the footage and the missing four hours and he took the mask and…Oh jeez…What if he knows something is going on? Well obviously he does –“

“Peter,” Ned spoke, but Peter went on.

“ – I mean, why else would he come here, right?”

“Peter.”

“ – and I dunno what to – “

“Peter!”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when Ned shouted at him. Ned let out a deep breath and Peter stared silently. There was complete quiet, besides the turned down volume on the laptop. Finally Peter noticed how sick Ned looked and Peter wanted to ask if he was okay, but Ned spoke before he could.

“They announced his cause of death.”

Peter felt his hands tighten at his sides.

“Multiple stab wounds.”


	4. Staircase Wit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thinking of an idea or course of action too late to use it effectively"

_ Queens, New York _

_ October 30th, 2016 _

_ 11:49 P.M. EST _

For Peter…it was the thought of being like _him_.

It was the thought of Uncle Ben, hitting the pavement and the bullet ripping through him. It was the gunshot, and the flinch that followed, and Peter’s eyes closing, then opening. It was the thought of their last real conversation being an argument over Peter not listening, because things had been going bad – he had been bitten by that spider, and he had…lost himself in not knowing what to do or who to be anymore. He had lost his identity and Uncle Ben had tried to be there for him and Peter had pushed him away.

And then Uncle Ben had died.

Mostly, it was the thought of being like him though, not Uncle Ben, but the man who had killed Uncle Ben.

The more Peter imagined himself taking that letter opener and plunging it into Senator Carmin’s chest over and over again, the more like Uncle Ben’s killer he felt. He thought about whether or not Senator Carmin had children, if he had a wife, a nephew, someone who loved him and couldn’t live without him or just relied on him in general emotionally or financially or…Something. Peter didn’t know how the man who had killed Uncle Ben could run free without the weight on his chest, because Peter already felt like he was drowning with it.

That was how they weren’t alike, but a part of Peter felt like the gap wasn’t wide enough, and he couldn’t escape his conscience telling him that yes, they were one in the same…That they had the same selfish piece inside of them. The problem was, Peter could not remember what had driven him to that point, why he had become selfish, why he had decided to do what he had done. Still, they didn’t have solid proof, but they had Peter’s memory and they had the announcement. It was enough for Peter to convict himself.

It was enough to be guilty.

To hate himself.

_The blood was warm, and Peter felt tears soaking his face as he looked down at his uncle. Peter tried to inhale, but couldn’t, and he couldn’t even scream. His mouth was just open silently, and Peter grabbed at his uncle’s chest where it was caked in the red, going through, and the invisible bullet wound was inside._

_“B – Buh…Ben…”_

_“It’s okay,” Uncle Ben croaked and in those moments he still found the strength to comfort Peter, “It’s okay.”_

Peter laid on the bottom bunk. He could hear Ned breathing above him, and the room was pitch black. All besides the red light from his alarm clock that he kept, because even though most people used their phones now, he liked having a clock beside his bed. Peter felt his throat clogging with each passing moment, and he tried to shove it down like it was a beast, a monster, something that was going to ultimately tear him apart. It already felt like it was.

He imagined what kind of anger and pain had to have entered his body for him to be so cruel to another human being. For him to do what he did. He hadn’t even had the urge to behave that way towards Toomes, not at all, and yet Toomes had dropped a building on him and…Peter just couldn’t believe it, and there had to be something else. There was a piece missing. Something had to have gone.

He couldn’t remember.

And he had done something so terrible.

Peter felt his eyes burning…throat still clogged. He thought of what Mister Stark would think…about lying to his face the way he had. Mister Stark was Iron Man, he was a hero…and Peter couldn’t think. He couldn’t even put together the thoughts of the kind of disappointment and anger it would cause. Mister Stark was everything Peter wanted to be, everything he wanted to accomplish.

_“I wanted you to be better.”_

But Peter just wanted to _be_ Iron Man. He wanted to save people, countless people, he never wanted anyone to hurt like he had over Uncle Ben. But Mister Stark didn’t go around stabbing senators and Peter inhaled sharply, sitting up with a jolt in bed as the tears started to fall uncontrollably, even though he knew Ned was in the bed above him. They had been friends long enough, he supposed, but he still tried to stifle the sounds by biting down on his lower lip and covering his mouth with both hands over one another. His body folded forward and he pushed his head between his knees to force himself to breathe through his nose.

If Mister Stark knew –

God, Peter had lied.

He had lied right to his face.

And now Mister Stark had the mask and –

_“You’re right, kid. You did do a good thing tonight.”_

But not now. Peter didn’t know if you could stab someone repeatedly and ever be considered good again. And he wanted to be good, that was all he ever wanted. He wanted to be good and kind and a hero. Different from the world around him, and certainly different from what had been handed to be him by fate in the past. Yet there he was, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to grasp his thoughts enough to calm himself.

“Peter?”

Ned’s voice was whispered, and Peter heard Ned leaning over the edge of the bunk bed. Peter didn’t respond, and there was no more movement, but he could sense Ned leaning over and staring at him. Peter imagined with worried eyes, and it was a shock Ned would even want to stay the night after finding out what Peter had done…Peter who had once been his best friend but Peter supposed when Ned knew for certain Peter was a murderer –

“C’mon man…” Ned whispered, sounding worried, “Don’t cry.”

Peter wanted to reply something snarky, along the lines of _, “Yeah, let me just inhale this trauma real quick.”_

But it never came. He couldn’t laugh, he couldn’t be a part of this generation of dark humor when it had caught up to him with such force. Peter silenced his crying though, left only with trembling shoulders and the occasional chest spasm. He felt like his mouth was bleeding from where he was chewing, trying to ignore the pain in his heart with the realization that maybe Ned would stop being his friend, Tony would abandon him, his aunt would send him off…

It all seemed like the worst.

There was no worse, it was all so bad.

Peter’s ears kept ringing. It felt so late at night and Peter just wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. And he was keeping Ned awake, which he knew shouldn’t have been a concern at the moment but it was, school was too since the next day would be Monday. It would be Halloween and Peter didn’t have his Spider-Man mask to go out and patrol on one of the busiest nights of the year, but then again…He might have been a danger to everyone in Queens for all he knew.

“You know what?” Ned spoke when Peter continued to hold his breath and try to silence the need to cry, “How about…How about tomorrow instead of going to school, we go look for Halloween stuff, yeah? I mean there’s nothing we can do right now, and we don’t even know what really happened so – so you know, we can do that and I bet it’ll help you feel better.”

Peter scoffed, “Feel better? Ned, I murdered someone.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s convenient,” Peter hissed, voice shaking, “It’s convenient that I remember stabbing this guy and his official cause of death is, that’s right, _stab_ _wounds_.”

Peter blinked rapidly in the darkness at the empty wall in front of him before he lowered his head once more. The words spilled past his lips, and more tears squeezed through his eyes as he shut them tightly, “I killed someone.”

There was silence once more. Peter could only guess that Ned was shocked into it. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to say. Or maybe he was realizing that his friend was a murderer and that he should probably never speak to him again for his own safety. In any fashion, silence had come and it had swallowed them like a tidal wave. Peter was shaking, shoulders moving painfully. Every muscle in his body was tense, and he just wanted the silence to go away and he wanted his mattress to swallow him whole and to just rescue him from this.

“Peter?”

Ned’s voice was hesitant, as if he was frightened to speak and Peter so hoped he wasn’t frightened of him.

Peter slowly lifted his head from between his knees once more to see the wall. His face was sticky with tears and it felt like his skin had thick film over it. He felt swallowed and trapped and Peter pushed through his throat to reply, “Yeah?”

A pause, then Ned replied simply…yet it sounded so confident.

“You will always be my best friend, no matter what you did or didn’t do.”

And Peter…Peter cried harder.

…

_ Avengers Compound _

_ October 31st, 2016 _

_ 2:03 A.M. EST _

Tony wasn’t sure what drove him to that point.

Maybe it was the inside-out mask in front of him, the kid’s mask, and the tools he had out on the workbench. And that feeling in the back of his mind that he just couldn’t work on it, because he had let Ross get the better of him. He had let Ross’ words sink too deep and he had let himself be swayed into thinking something he didn’t want to think. And he hadn’t been…not really, not until he had gone to the kid’s apartment, not until he had found out about the missing footage and data, not until he had witnessed himself how strange Peter was behaving and how it felt like he was absolutely lying through his teeth.

The kid only ever lied when he was getting himself into deep shit…Like about band practice.

The whole point of not having children was to avoid the stress and anxiety, and to also avoid the chance that he could become Howard and become something worse for a kid than no father at all. The point – Tony didn’t know if he was truly capable of separating his feelings, his anger and frustration with worry, because they often intermingled and he knew parenthood was full of that. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, he didn’t want to hurt a child. Not emotionally, certainly never physically, but Tony didn’t know who he was, not really. Not after a wormhole had opened in the sky, maybe not even before then.

Screaming at the kid after the ferry boat…realizing he sounded just like Howard…that reinforced that he was not ready. Going to the kid’s apartment, listening to him talk and knowing he was lying and fighting the urge to shake him and get the truth, he was not ready. And Peter wasn’t even his, and yet there he was staring at the mask and being ripped apart by thoughts that Ross was even a little bit right.

The thing was, Ross thought Spider-Man had been somehow working in cahoots with the rogues, which Tony knew to be false. But Tony worried there was some sort of truth in it. Maybe the rogues really were involved but Peter wasn’t at all, and honestly, Tony almost preferred that theory over the thought Peter had done something stupid. But it was completely out of Peter’s character, the kid refused to even hurt Toomes on the beach when he was being attacked. So it made very little sense to Tony that he would attack a senator in cold blood and stab him.

That wasn’t Peter.

And maybe Peter wasn’t his, but he knew that kid. He had taken responsibility for him, he had inserted himself into Peter’s life and maybe that was a plague, and bad, and Tony shouldn’t have done it because he often caused destruction, but this felt worse. This worry and this weight and he tightened his fists, nearly picking up the tools to begin trying to dig information from the mask but…

He stood instead, and walked over to the other side of the room in a brisk pace. Slowly he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, standing in front of the large glass windows framed by the night sky. There were spotlights on the Compound’s front lawn, always watching and guarding like Tony’s dreams. He stared at the phone, thought for a few moments, then dialed.

The number wasn’t Rogers’, but instead it was sent to him as a temporary contact for the month. A surprising little message he had not expected, but since changes were being made to the Accords and an attempt was being made to bring the rogues back, some sort of communication had to be established past Steve’s burner phone. The face-time call dialed, and Tony looked at himself in front of the screen, realizing he looked like shit from lack of sleep. Strange thing was, he was so worried, sleep wasn’t even on his mind.

It paused in ringing.

Connecting…

Tony didn’t expect the face that appeared. Well, he expected the face, but not the hair. What once was red, was now blonde and Tony’s face was immediately plastered with that of nonchalance and hiding emotions and terror in favor of humor. He felt safer behind his coping mechanism and he snorted…

“Oh I’m sorry, Barbie. I was trying to get in touch with a Ms. Romanoff.”

Nat’s face was blank and didn’t look humored in the slightest. Instead she answered bluntly, “That’s fine, I was expecting someone more along the lines of Ken, not a sleep-deprived cabbage patch kid.”

Tony smirked, “You think I look like Ken on a good day?”

She avoided the question all together and instead rolled her eyes. Tony tried to study the room she was in but honestly all he could make out was ugly flower wallpaper behind her head. He squinted his eyes and questioned, “You staying with a grandma?”

“I’d be sure to tell you that.”

“Oh calm down,” Tony huffed, “I know you guys are in Philadelphia. But don’t worry, I haven’t sent a team to arrest you. I still want to do everything civil, and I wouldn’t have sent you guys the amendments Ross made earlier if I had strayed away from that desire.”

Nat only hummed in response. There was kind of an awkward silence between them and Tony couldn’t help but think that even if they managed to have the rogues come back, that things would never be the same. That awkward silence would always hold true now and forever, and they had never been like that before. There was always talking, banter, and when there wasn’t it was comfortable. But now it didn’t feel that way and Tony chewed the inside of his mouth, contemplating something, but not knowing how to approach it.

Luckily, Nat approached it for him.

“So,” She said, “To what do I owe this pleasure? Last I checked, there was a lot of anger aimed at me. And if there had been a weapon involved I’m sure that would have been there as well.”

Tony resisted the urge to sigh. He wanted this to be more professional than that, but professional was hard with the Avengers. They were all so…weird. Tony included. Instead he ground his teeth for a few moments, before tilting his head. When he took too long to answer, she asked, “Is there still anger?”

Tony inhaled this time.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Tony replied, and he actually sounded somewhat vulnerable, “Not anymore…I…Don’t know anymore but…”

A pause, then, “Something happened.”

Natasha’s face finally changed. It morphed into concern and she questioned, “Are you alright?”

It was so simple, and yet Tony’s chest clenched. No…he hadn’t been alright since Germany, since Siberia, since things went bad. He had felt okay, but alright was different. Alright was a state of existence, and even though he assumed people used those words interchangeably, he didn’t feel like they could be used that way. At least not with this situation, not with them, not when Tony still kind of felt like he was dying somewhere deep inside and had nowhere to escape to.

“I will be,” He answered, “But I have a question. Have you ever heard of Senator Carmin?”

Natasha seemed to consider this question, then, “Yeah, he’s like a senator in New York or something, right? Was one of the Accords fans.”

“Right,” Tony confirmed, nodding his head, “And did you know he was murdered yesterday?”

Natasha’s brows pulled together, and it answered Tony’s question already. Natasha would not have pretended to be confused or surprised by such a statement. She just wouldn’t have, and he doubted she would have lied about it to him. Even if he felt like Steve was a liar, Natasha only lied to spies and about spy stuff. The killing of Carmin didn’t seem like something she would hide from him, but a part of Tony had hoped…Well he had had hoped…

Cause now…the kid…

“I didn’t…” Nat said, “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”

There was a lump in Tony’s throat. He blinked a few times and he said in a hushed tone, “I had hoped kind of, that you had done it.”

Natasha didn’t even flinch. Instead she just questioned, “And why’s that?”

A pause…then…

“I’ll keep you posted.”

He didn’t give Natasha time to reply. Instead he hung up and her face disappeared as the line disconnected. Tony shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned, pausing as he looked across the room at the mask on the waiting work bench. His mind was racing, and his heart quickened and he didn’t even know why he felt so scared – he didn’t know why he was letting himself think this way, or even consider what he was considering…Peter would never, it was probably just some random person – but he felt like someone was sitting on his chest…

It felt really, really wrong for some reason. All of it felt really wrong.

Tony approached the workbench slowly, as if it was going to explode and he sat back down, getting to work on the mask. His hands were trembling, but he managed to block the thoughts out long enough to hook the mask up to his computer next to him. It lit up to life, and the data that was available began to transfer directly from the mask, rather than what he had been able to uncover from his own feed that was linked to Friday from Karen.

A few moments ticked by, until the download bar was complete and Tony opened the files. Just as had appeared on his own feed, four hours of the data was missing. Tony worked to move to the core of the files, searching for any indication that something had been tampered with. While it wasn’t outright visible, behind a few of the files themselves was a smaller download that caught Tony’s eye. When he opened it, it offered a four second clip, causing Tony’s eyebrows to pull downward.

There was no time logged beside the clip, but Tony pressed on it anyway, finding it out of place…

A black screen pulled up, before movement began. It was a silent video, and it was hard to make anything out on it besides sharp movements back and forth and from what he could see, there was a gloved hand grabbing onto what appeared to be flesh on someone’s wrist. As soon as it had began, the clip disappeared almost instantly, video ending and the four seconds running out. Tony felt a strange pit open in his stomach as he replayed the clip a few times. A gloved hand – he realized the glove belonged to the suit he had designed for Peter. And then an unknown wrist. Even when Tony paused the video, he couldn’t make out if the wrist was that of a man or a woman, an adult or a child…Nothing.

It was so quick, and there was no time stamp, but Tony could only feel dread pooling into himself. A realization that he didn’t want, or at the very least a suspicion.

A suspicion that he had been lied to.

…

_ Queens, New York _

_ October 31st, 2016 _

_ 9:12 A.M. EST _

It didn’t take a lot of convincing for Peter to skip school Monday to go to the Halloween store with Ned.

Peter wasn’t sure he had the capacity to even pay attention at school, let alone take notes. Luckily for the two of them, they didn’t have any tests, not until Friday, so they would have the majority of the week to study. Of course Peter didn’t know if he would even be okay to do that…he figured if he had killed someone he could be in jail soon or worse and he wasn’t about to make any plans that involved not being in jail.

The store was packed with last minute shoppers getting ready for the night’s festivities. Kids were screaming when random decorations would pop out at them and parents were scolding them for acting ‘silly’ in the store and not keeping up with them as they threw random witch and lady bug outfits into their cart. Peter and Ned had nothing particular in mind, but had picked up two Clone Trooper masks for themselves.

“Dude, I’m telling you, the candy is going to make it all better.”

Peter looked at him as if he was an idiot. Mostly because getting Halloween candy didn’t compare to murder in the slightest. It almost felt stupid honestly, to be convinced he had killed someone and yet he had gone out with Ned to buy Clone Trooper masks like a couple of dummies. Of course he figured there had been stranger trips that murderers had taken after committing their heinous acts.

Peter didn’t know, but hey…stranger things had happened.

“Ned,” Peter sighed, “I don’t think candy is going to fix this.”

Ned replied simply, “Okay, not fix it per se, but ya know…soften the blow while we figure out what exactly went down. You and I both know that you didn’t just go to that guys penthouse and decide you were going to carve him up with his own letter opener.”

“Shhh,” Peter snapped, glancing around.

Ned rolled his eyes, “Peter, I don’t believe you would do this out of cold blood. And…I don’t see how you can believe you did either. You’re a hero. So that means something else is going on and we need all the candy we can get to get sugar high and stay up late to figure out what went wrong.”

Peter said nothing in return, just watched as Ned turned around where they stood in the check out line to put their masks on the conveyer belt behind the woman in front of them. Peter jumped when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he reached in, half-expecting it to be his aunt shouting at him for missing school, though he didn’t know how she would know that. She was currently at home, sleeping off her night shift so even if the school called he doubted she would pick up. However, he paused with a sudden rush of surprised when he saw the name on the caller ID.

MR. STARK

“Oh shit,” Peter whispered breathlessly. He started slapping his hand on Ned’s back, unable to breathe as Ned whirled around with a confused expression. Peter turned the phone towards him, and Ned’s eyes went wide as well.

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Peter hissed, face conforming into pain, as if the phone call was physically hurting him, “I mean…I was acting super weird yesterday and – Oh God, what if he knows?”

Ned shook his head, “He doesn’t know.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“I just know he doesn’t know,” Ned replied sharply as the woman started scanning their items. Their voices were hushed and he went on quickly, words tumbling out, “He probably just wants to ask about Avenger stuff or something, chill out.”

Peter shook his head frantically, “Don’t tell me to chill out, I’m the one that tells you that.”

“Then tell me.”

“No.”

Ned huffed, frustrated as the woman awkwardly gave them their total. Ned handed her the cash and while she counted and Ned offered small talk, Peter stared at the ID until it disappeared and the call ended. Peter breathed out slowly, blinking before he stuffed the phone back in his pocket. His palms had begun to sweat immediately and he felt uneasy on his feet as the cashier handed Ned the bag of Clone Trooper masks. The woman glanced at Peter and Peter gave a small wave as he followed Ned out of the store in a rush…

“You’re really bad under pressure,” Ned said.

“Me?” Peter asked, “Says the guy who told a teacher he was watching porn –“

Ned raised an index finger as they moved to the sidewalk and over the curb to cross the street, “Don’t talk about that – !”

Suddenly brakes squealed and both boys jumped back up onto the curb when a dark SUV pulled up next to them. Peter felt his stomach sink, only imagining it was the fucking FBI there to grab him in broad daylight. Ned let out a high pitched screech, and Peter stared at his reflection in the passenger side window that had stopped directly in front of him. The windows were too tinted for him to see through, but before even Peter or Ned could say anything the passenger window began to lower and a face appeared on the driver’s side.

Mister Stark.

“Oh shit.”

The words left Ned’s mouth this time. Mister Stark was wearing sunglasses and he lowered them a bit to his nose, studying both boys. Mister Stark questioned, “Oh shit is right, shouldn’t you two be in school?”

Peter searched for his voice. It cracked a few moments before he opened his mouth fully and replied, “I-It…It’s Halloween, sir.”

“Right,” Tony hummed, “Last I checked kids didn’t get out of school for Halloween.”

Both Peter and Ned were silent. Mister Stark glanced at Ned a moment, staring at him. Peter’s stomach was doing somersaults and he wondered how Tony had found him without the suit. His cellphone was the best explanation but it made him almost sick to think that Tony had tracked him to find where he was specifically. Even Aunt May didn’t do that kind of thing with those parent apps and Peter just couldn’t imagine anything else going wrong, or being asked anymore questions. Mister Stark continued to stare at Ned before speaking…

“Tell ya what, kid,” Tony said, “Let Peter and me have a car ride alone. We need to talk.”

Ned glanced at Peter, and Peter’s mouth was hanging open, eyes wide. Needed to talk…right…that made Peter anymore inclined to speak. Ned cleared his throat, and tried to argue, “Sir, I dunno if –“

“It wasn’t a question,” Tony took off his sunglasses completely this time, “Peter and I need to talk.”

Tony reached over the middle console, before grabbing the door and pushing it open. Both Peter and Ned stepped back when the door swung open and Peter felt a heavy weight on his chest. This time Peter started to argue with the idea, saying, “Mister Stark, Ned and I kind of have some stuff planned for Halloween and we’re on a really tight schedule.”

“Kid, get in.”

“But –“

“Get. _In_.”

Peter inhaled sharply at the tone. It was a warning, and it wasn’t leaving room for argument. Peter felt uneasy again on his two feet, and he looked at Ned, as if pleading but Ned looked afraid too. It felt like a kidnapping but instead of being dragged in, there just wasn’t any room for argument. Peter’s mind whirled – had he found something in the mask? Had he found out Peter had stabbed the senator? Or thought he had? Had he realized Peter had been lying the day before when he had said nothing weird had happened besides the data disappearing?

Peter moved forward slowly, before ducking into the vehicle, and closing the door. He looked at Ned through the lowered window and tried to sound reassuring as he said, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Ned didn’t look sure, “Pete…”

Before anything more could be said, the window rolled up and the two of them pulled away from the curb.


End file.
